


Old Wounds

by BalefireFlatlands



Series: The Balefire [13]
Category: Mad Max (Video Game 2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2019-09-19 20:28:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17008665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BalefireFlatlands/pseuds/BalefireFlatlands
Summary: Jeet needs a day off.





	Old Wounds

Agonizing shockwaves ricocheted down Jeet’s spine. His vision blurred, seeing a view of double, even triple the area right in front of his chair. Closing one eye and then the other didn’t clear it, nor give him any relief from the strobing light plaguing him. Images pulsated, odd lightning-like distortions crackling across his eyes in bright colors. Blinking was even worse, bright enough to look like an electrical storm happening against his eyelids.

Every sound in the Lighthouse drummed directly into his brain. He could hear people talking on a different level, the scraping sound of someone working on a car, heightened to a level where individual grains of sand shifting outside were almost audible. It was overwhelming and painfully assaulted his ears with no relief in sight.

And that was nothing compared to the actual pain. The damaged, blistered side of Jeet’s face and neck throbbed so intensely it felt like it would actually be visible to someone walking by. His skull seemed like it was shrinking, constricting his brain and threatening to burst.

It had been going on for hours, the pain a constant companion, but his vision was sporadic, going in and out and causing him to stumble. He’d snapped at his residents, physically attacked one of them, as he tried to carry on as normal despite his anguish until Blas had finally convinced him to go sit down in his chair. He could see Blas out of the periphery of his vision, only recognizable because his yellow skin stood out against the darkness of the Lighthouse interior. Blas was talking to what he could only assume was Scab, something lumpy on the floor of the catwalk anyway, and then Blas disappeared from view.

Well, disappeared from where Jeet could see anyway, it hurt too much to turn his head and try and figure out what was going on. He groaned and dug his fingers into his scalp, curling over himself with his elbows on his knees. There was an odd gush of warmth and a sound like dripping water and Jeet squinted to try and see what he was looking at. With a groan he struggled to uncurl his hands from his head; he’d accidentally ripped one of the arrowheads out of his forehead, causing blood to cascade down his arms onto the metal floor below him.

“Imperator.”

Jeet startled, having not noticed Scab crawling to his side.

“C'mon Imperator. Come sit with me and Blas.”

The response was a snarl, maybe some words, but Jeet wasn’t coherent enough to make much sense or form viable sentences.

Scab crawled up onto the chair next to Jeet, cautiously touching his arm. “Don’t let your people see you weak.”

Jeet’s reaction was instant and violent, elbowing Scab in the face and knocking him off the chair to land in a heap. Scab had dealt with cruel leaders his entire life, so he was expecting some sort of a response, but he couldn’t help the yelp of surprise that escaped him. He’d gone soft under Jeet’s leadership.

Reaching up Scab rubbed his cheek, he wasn’t bleeding but that was going to be a bruise soon enough. Undeterred he climbed back up next to Jeet who was fidgeting with the blades in his skin. “Imperator.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Jeet stood, twitching and flexing his fingers. He staggered towards Blas’ room, nearly collapsing as he tried to kneel down to crawl into the small entrance.

Scab followed him, dragging himself behind Jeet’s back so that he could pull him down onto him, supporting his torso against his chest. “Relax. No one will know.” Scab wrapped one arm around Jeet’s chest, holding him in place, while his other hand carefully pushed against the arrow points in Jeet’s bicep until he groaned.

Jeet was a mess, pain wracking his body and yet he was still intent on getting up and carrying on as normal. He’d gone so long pretending nothing was wrong that he couldn’t give himself time to recover when he actually needed it. He mumbled something that was completely unintelligible before squirming and licking his lips, "Your face okay?“

Scab grinned, running his fingers through Jeet’s hair. "Yeah. I’ve had worse. S'what I get for touching you without permission.”

“Scab..” Jeet didn’t have the strength to protest that right now, and he couldn’t even form the sentences to apologize if he wanted to.

Fortunately he was saved by Blas crawling into the room with a canteen and a metal bucket. He offered the canteen to Jeet, encouragingly uncapping it and holding it to the man’s lips. Jeet took a swallow. Then another before handing the canteen back to Blas.

Shaking his head Scab motioned Blas to bring it back. “Drink it all. You’re dehydrated. It’s making it worse.”

Annoyed, Jeet tried to wriggle out of Scab’s grip. “Wasteful. You’re not an Organic.”

“I’m the closest you have. Drink the water.”

“You giving me orders Scab?”

“I’m your champion. I’m keeping you alive, as is my duty.”

Blas hesitantly offered the canteen again, and this time Jeet took it, drinking greedily before capping it. The Bullet Boy scooched closer, unhooking the man’s vest and pulling it off him. He reached into the bucket at his side, squeezing a rag into some cold water. They’d dug a small storage area into the cliffside beneath the lighthouse at Scab’s urging, making a cold storage area so that the Lighthouse residents could experience cold, refreshing water like he’d had in Gastown.

“Where does it hurt?” Blas carefully worked the cold rag over Jeet’s inflamed skin.

“Everywhere. Don’t matter, always happens.” But he grudgingly relaxed into Scab’s arms. For a few moments anyway before he twitchily jerked back up and tried to crawl away. Scab held onto him tightly, preventing him from leaving and Jeet growled, “Hands off Scab.”

Hesitating, Scab loosened his grip, but he didn’t quite let him go, torn between listening to Jeet’s orders and doing what he thought was best for him. He looked over at Blas for support.

“You’re staying right there Jeet. Stop squirming.” Blas’ voice was stern, clearly not going to be swayed by Jeet’s mumbled protests.

Jeet testily tried to pull the rag out of Blas’ hands; fully intent on leaving and returning to his chair, going back to work. But Scab pinned his arms to his side and pulled him close.

Taking a deep breath, Jeet tried to think through the agony inside his mind, tried to form words and to function normally. It didn’t work and he fell back against Scab, exhausted just from the effort. Blas grinned triumphantly, continuing to apply cool relief to Jeet’s damaged skin.

“Just relax, the place ain’t gonna fall apart for a day while you take some time off. Me and Scab got this.”

Closing his eyes again, because he was tired of looking at three different versions of Blas, Jeet grumpily shifted into a more comfortable position against Scab. He didn’t want to be here. This was embarrassing, and these were his prisoners, he was better than this.

Except that he was completely incapable of doing much of anything while his skull felt like it was going to fracture from the pressure in his head. Laying there and letting them coddle him like an injured child did nothing for his pride, but he really didn’t have much of a choice.

He must have fallen asleep, as the next thing Jeet was aware of was Scab carefully transferring him from where he was laying against his chest over to Blas. They were having a quiet conversation that he couldn’t follow, and then Scab turned and crawled out of the room, leaving Jeet nestled against Blas who protectively curled around him and stroked his hair.

It was chilly when he woke up next, must have been the middle of the night. Jeet’s head still throbbed, turning his neck sent jolts of pain radiating out from his spine, but he could at least see for the moment. He reached up to rub his eyes trying to figure out how long he’d been there. Scab was back, sitting against the wall next to them, holding a metal sheet and a piece of chalk.

“S’s are like this. Then c - a - b. Scab. That’s what your name looks like.”

Scab smiled delightedly. “What about yours?”

Blas reached over with the chalk he was holding to write BLAS CAP on the sheet in big block letters. Underneath it he wrote JEET. “Blas Cap. Jeet. It’s not hard. I can teach you more and then you can help with inventory too.”

Jeet groaned, twisting around from where he was laying next to Blas’ legs. “What are you doing?”

“You’re awake!” Blas set down the chalk and wriggled closer, ready to help him get up or offer more water. “We did your inventory for you. And Scab fixed the south gate.”

“Added some real nice spikes and have a rotating lookout posted there.” He leaned the metal piece against the wall and rolled over towards them. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like a convoy ran me over.” He rubbed his head before dropping it back onto the bundled up blankets he was laying on. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Midnight, nearly. You needed the sleep though. Hungry?” Scab reached next to him where there was a crate containing a few cans of food. “We’ve got the one with the little yellow things and the one with the red things.”

“Corn or tomatoes.” Blas smiled and handed him a can opener.

“That’s not what corn looks like. It’s,” Scab made a motion with his hands, approximating the size of an ear of corn. “long and narrow. Got a core in it like biting into an old seat cushion.”

“You’ve had actual corn?” Jeet was curious enough to stay awake despite his body screaming at him to go back to sleep until this painful episode ended.

Scab shifted uncomfortably, “Back at the Citadel when I was a pup. Stole a whole crate of green stuff from the garden and ate it all before anyone could find out. Never got caught neither. It was supposed to be for the Immortan’s breeders, but they don’t need all of it. Don’t think anyone even noticed it was gone. They didn’t keep records like you do.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t get killed. Someone did that to the Bullet Farmer’s stash and he launched their head out of a canon afterwards.”

“How’d they grow actual food at the Citadel?” Jeet reached out and scooped up a few fingerfulls of corn, sucking his fingers clean after each bite.

“I dunno. I’ve never been up to the garden. I’m a driver, no need for me to go up there.” Scab shrugged, “Took a whole lot of water though, pumped up through these pipes ran by the slaves.”

Jeet made a noncommital noise, if he was feeling better he would have starting thinking about how they could have that in the Lighthouse, but even he knew they’d never have that much water. Not unless Gutgash was right and the rains returned. He shook his head and then immediately regretted it, sight going fuzzy and a wave of nausea overcoming him.

Blas shifted him around so that he was in a more upright position, offering him the canteen again. “Take it easy, you’ve been laying down all day. Eat something and then get some more sleep. You probably need it.”

“I don’t want more sleep. I got shit to do.”

“Your inventory is done, and..”

“Yeah yeah I heard you. Spikes and guards. I have other stuff that needs doing, I can’t just lay here like some freeloader.”

“You’re not a freeloader. You’re our Imperator. And you can’t lead if you work yourself to death. Eat.” Scab shoved the can of corn into Jeet’s hands.

Jeet relented, using his fingers to dig out bits of corn and eat them. “How’re my storerooms looking?”

Blas pulled a separate metal sheet out, carefully drawn lines and hashmarks neatly organizing their inventory contents. “We’re low on broth, but good on soup and vegetables. Haven’t had to touch those two cases of cat food yet.” Blas glanced up before continuing, “What’s a cat?”

Scab shrugged, having no idea, “Something you eat I guess.”

“It’s an animal. Little furry thing. There’s a picture of them on some of the cans.” Squinting at the charts, Jeet was impressed. Not just by how well their stockpile was holding up, but that Blas inventoried everything for him. He also had very small, neat handwriting for having been written in chalk. “How about water?”

“Four barrels.” Blas leaned the sheeting against the wall where it wouldn’t get smudged. “And Scab made sure everyone had full canteens including the scouts down at the base of the cliff.”

“Good.” Jeet was struggling to find fault with what they’d done in his absence, but couldn’t. Maybe he wasn’t as necessary to the stronghold as he thought. He didn’t want to think about that, especially not now. “What were you doing when I woke up?”

“Scab wanted to know what his name looked like written down.”

Scab’s eyes darted away, embarrassed, as Jeet glanced at him.

“You don’t know how to read?”

“I’m a driver! I don’t gotta know.” He started to twist away, uncomfortable with having an exposed weakness, something that made him less useful for the stronghold.

“I said I’d teach ya.” Blas tried to reach out to him, but he had his arms full with Jeet who was leaning against him and he couldn’t grab onto them both.

Jeet wasn’t sure why he was surprised, it made sense that the Citadel and Gastown wouldn’t waste the effort to teach War Boys how to read and write when they were bred to only be battle fodder. There were hardly any books left around for them to read anyway. He tried to look up at Blas, unable to see his face with how he was laying on him. "Why do you know how to if they don’t teach War Boys?“

"I have to be able to read and write formulas. Draw schematics and label all the parts so someone else could make it if I die.” Blas idly stroked Jeet’s fringe of hair, resting his cheek against the top of his head. He rarely got to hold the stronghold leader, usually it was the other way around. Smiling happily he nuzzled against Jeet. “Or if I get taken prisoner by a rival stronghold.”

“I doubt they expected that to happen Blas.” Jeet had his eyes closed again, sinking into the nice feeling of Blas playing with his hair. His body was forcing him to sleep, but his brain was trying to resist. “Glad it did though.”

Scab inched closer, ready to toss a blanket over Jeet as soon as he fell asleep. Jeet had other plans though, snaking out an arm to wrap around the War Boy, pulling him close to use as his personal body pillow. Immediately Scab changed tactics, molding himself against Jeet and becoming the perfect mattress for his leader.

“Why are you so comfy?”

“I’m a bloodbag now, it’s all I’ve got.”

Blas happily settled next to both of them, stretching out and pulling the blankets over the three of them. Actually sharing the orange and yellow blanket Jeet had given him that he was fiercely possessive of, never even letting Scab use it. “I’ve been laying on him for a year, getting him worn in for you.”

Jeet half smiled, but didn’t open his eyes. “Giving me used goods are you?”

“Hey, I’m tried and true. Best of the best.” Scab wrapped his arms around Jeet, keeping him in place. He could feel the heat radiating off Jeet’s damaged skin, the occasionally hissed breath that spoke volumes about how much pain he was still in. “Go to sleep Imperator. We’ll watch over you.”

Never good at taking orders Jeet almost got up out of spite, but his body rebelled, knocking him out again, collapsing against the warm heat on both sides of him. Over his sleeping form Blas and Scab’s eyes met, and they smiled softly, reaching over to stroke his head as he slept.

Even Imperators needed days off.


End file.
